


He's My Friend

by CapGirlCanuck



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1920s Brooklyn, BROTHERS2INFINITY, Bullying, Fist Fights, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, School, becoming friends, dedicated to my sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapGirlCanuck/pseuds/CapGirlCanuck
Summary: They musta said it a hundred times. Figures the first time was because of a fight.(But their friendship began with their hands, not their fists.)





	He's My Friend

**Author's Note:**

> So my sister asked for a kidfic, like two months ago. Took me long enough! XD  
Thanks again to all my sisters for their help in moving the writer's block. 
> 
> This is set immediately after they first meet on Steve's first day of school. That first meeting is depicted in my fics _Way Back When_ (chapter 'We're Going to Be Friends', Steve's POV) and _This is Me_ (chapter 'Stay For a While, part 1', Bucky's POV). 
> 
> September 1926

_For Rachael. Because she's my sister._

There were two pieces of gingerbread in Steve’s lunch bag, along with his sandwich, apple, and milk, and Steve smiled. His mam made the best gingerbread in all of New York, really in the whole world. It wasn’t hard or dry like some people made it. Hers was thick and soft and chewy, and just thinking about the flavours of sugar and ginger dancing across his tongue, made his mouth water.

He made himself reach for the sandwich first.

So far, his first day at school was... okay. Sure, he'd gotten picked on by that big boy first thing, but he wasn't afraid. And besides, another boy had actually stood up for Steve.

“Hey, Steve.” The dark-haired boy sitting at the desk on his right had turned in his chair to sit facing Steve. He was now talking through a mouthful of his own sandwich. The two boys in front of them were in the middle of a heated discussion about whether or not people could live without frogs, but Bucky ignored them. “Do you have any brothers?”

Steve shook his head and nibbled on the crusts of his sandwich. They were eating lunch inside today because it was raining.

“I’ve got three sisters. Becca is in first grade; the twins are just babies.” Bucky swallowed. “You got any?”

Steve shook his head again. “Just me and my mam.”

Bucky tilted his head. “What happened to your dad?”

Steve chewed on another bit of crust and swallowed before he answered. “He died. In the war. Before I was born. He was a brave soldier.” For some reason he stared at the brown bread, instead of Bucky.

“My dad fought in the war too,” Bucky said, quieter. “He got injured and they sent him home. He doesn’t talk about it much. I don’t think he likes to remember.”

“My mom has a bunch of letters he wrote,” Steve said. “She’s read me parts of them. And she has his Bible. One of the other soldiers, who got hurt and sent home, brought it back to her.”

He didn’t know why he added that about the Bible. He glanced up at Bucky then, found the other boy’s eyes intent on him, before he simply… nodded. Nodded as if he understood at least a mite of what was going through Steve’s head.

“My dad fought with men from all over New York. He said he had a friend who saved his life. I think he got killed. His friend, I mean.” Bucky took another mouthful of sandwich. “My grandpa _(chewing) _fought in the Civil War. _(Chomping)_ He was my mama’s dad. _(Swallowing)_ I got named after him. Him and his brother. They fought together, but his brother got killed. His name was Buchanan, and Grandpa’s name is James. James Buchanan, see? It was Grandpa James who named me Bucky, ‘cause that’s what he called his brother.”

Steve became conscious of the fact that he had been staring at Bucky the whole time he was talking, and had almost finished eating his own sandwich.

Because he’d been sick so often, Steve didn’t get to play with boys his own age much. And when he tried to make friends with the other kids in their tenement building, the bigger boys would all tell him to beat it, that he was skinny as a shrimp and they didn’t want ‘slowpoke tag-alongs’. Some of the kids had said he had a bad sickness that they would all catch if they got too near.

So, Steve usually ended up by himself, either reading one of the schoolbooks his mama gave him, or drawing with his dad’s pencils and old sketchbook. He didn’t think he was very good, but he liked it. And the more often he did it, the better he got. Mama had seen some of his pictures and said he was a “natural”. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it was something good.

But anyway, what he suddenly figured out was that he didn’t know Bucky. All he knew about Bucky was what Bucky told him. And all Bucky knew was what Steve told _him._ Which meant that Bucky didn’t know anything about Steve being sick, and not being able to run as fast as the other kids because of his asthma. And maybe, if Bucky found out, he wouldn’t talk to Steve anymore.

“Steve!”

He glanced up startled. He didn’t know why Bucky went from looking impatient, to grinning a little bit. “Why haven’t I seen you here at school before? Were you going somewhere else?”

Steve’s mind blanked. He couldn’t think of what he should say. He didn’t want to stop talking with this boy who knew all about Jack Dempsey and said he listened to the fights on the radio sometimes with his dad. He felt his chest tighten, and hunted around in his head, panicking. But only one thing came to him.

“Sick,” he blurted. He stared down at his jar of milk, face suddenly burning. He realized that the boys in front of him and Bucky had stopped talking, as had the girls on Steve’s other side.

“Sick?” Bucky said. “You mean, all the time?”

Steve jerked his head somewhere between a nod and a shake.

“Tough luck.” Steve heard Bucky rummaging in his lunch pail, before he began to eat again. “I had chicken pox in the summer,” he went on. “Becca got it too. She cried a lot. We had to share a room in corn-teen. That means only Mom and Aunt Margarita and the doctor were allowed in,” he added. “Have you had chicken pox?”

Steve shook his head, not daring to look up, not even sure if Bucky was talking to him.

“Ugh,” the girl on his other side said. “I had chicken pox last year. It was horrible. You’re itchy all the time.”

“And if you scratch,” said the boy in front of Steve, “it can make them bleed and sometimes they scar. See?”

Steve could _not_ resist raising his head to look. Of course, his lunch bag was in the way of his view, but all the other kids were leaning over to stare, so he leaned over just far enough to see the marks on the other boy’s arm. He sat back, staring down at his desk, desperately hoping no one would ask him any more questions.

“Did your ma teach you at home?”

Steve gulped and turned his head just enough to look sideways up at Bucky.

“Just askin’,” the other boy shrugged. “You’re awful smart for not having been to school before.”

Steve stared at him. He didn’t know what to do, if he should nod– But Bucky might think he was agreeing that he was smart, and Steve didn’t want him to think he had a big head or something– Was he smart? Steve had never thought of himself like that. He knew he noticed things other people didn’t–

“Aunt Margarita would tell you to shut your mouth before the flies got in.” Bucky grinned. “Why you lookin’ at me like I hit you in the head with a hay-maker or something?”

“I–” Steve got out. “I d-didn’t…”

But Bucky was turning away.

Steve snapped his mouth shut. He wanted to shrivel up into a little ball of dust. How could he sound so _dumb?_ His brain was so loud inside, he didn’t look up until someone poked his arm.

“Hey, Steve?”

He stiffened, jerked his head up, turned to look right at Bucky. Well, if they were going to make fun of him, he–

“Umm, do you wanna share?” The words were quiet, and Steve’s eyes went down to the hand extended toward him.

A Baby Ruth candy bar.

Steve had had one once; all he remembered was that he liked it. He blinked, and glanced back up at Bucky’s face, saw the way Bucky looked at him, a little shy.

Bucky wanted to share his chocolate bar with him. Bucky _wanted_ to…

Steve reached for his lunch sack, fumbling to pull out the precious squares of gingerbread. The smell made his mouth water, but he took one chunk in each hand, turned back to Bucky, and wordlessly held out his left hand.

He saw the grin break across Bucky’s face, the way he looked so happy. “Swell!” Bucky said. And then he was tearing the wrapper, snapping the candy bar in two.

Steve put the gingerbread in Bucky’s hand, and Bucky gave him a half of the Baby Ruth.

Steve didn’t move for a moment, watching Bucky, who wasted no time biting into the gingerbread. His eyes went wide for a moment, before they closed and he sat there chewing slowly, his face looking so completely happy, Steve felt a wild urge to giggle.

“Who _made_ this?” he mumbled.

Steve gulped back the laughter. “Me mam.”

Bucky swallowed, opened his eyes again. “Can I come live at _your_ house?”

Steve could not hold back his giggles any longer. He didn’t know why he was laughing. It was just _funny!_ He was happy. Bucky wanted to share with him, Bucky liked his mam’s gingerbread, and Bucky was laughing too.

And when Bucky snorted milk up his nose and started coughing through the laughter, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Steve to lean over and thump him on the back.

***

The whole week went like that. They sat together in class. Played together at lunch. Shared their lunches. Bucky saw Steve drawing an American flag on the back of one of his papers, and immediately asked for Steve to draw him one too. Steve helped Bucky make a paper airplane that was the envy of all the other boys. Bucky taught Steve all his tricks at marbles, and watched Steve figure out a bunch of new ones.

Steve tried, tried so hard to join in the races and games of stickball, but after the third day, no one wanted him. Running made his chest hurt, and he felt like his mam would be worried about that, but he ran as hard as he could anyway. Didn’t matter; he finished last every time. As for the stickball, he’d never had a chance to play before, and he never got anywhere near hitting the ball. The last time, he swung so hard he sat himself in the dirt, and everyone laughed.

It made Steve feel kinda sick, when Bucky ran up to him after, right before they were supposed to line up to go back inside. He couldn’t look at Bucky, because fat chance he would still want a kid like Steve tagging along with him, now he knew how weak Steve was, he’d laugh just like all the other kids at home… Had Bucky laughed? Steve suddenly wasn’t sure.

Bucky’s shoulder shoved against his. “If we do three-leg tomorrow, you can be my partner.”

Steve’s legs stopped moving, and all he could see was Bucky’s face. “What?”

“Kenny said we’ll run three-legged races tomorrow, because one of the other thirds asked for it, and I want you to run with me.” There was a hint of impatience in Bucky’s voice. “Ok?”

Steve suddenly gulped. “You fooling?” he asked, and the words came out too quiet. He wanted to smile, but didn’t dare. He could feel himself beginning to smile.

Now, Bucky laughed. Laughed like he thought Steve was funny and liked him anyway. “Course not! Don’t be a dumbbell.” He punched Steve’s arm lightly. “And,” he added, looking away toward the front doors of the school. “I can give you some baseball practice too.”

Steve looked that way too, knowing there was a grin on his face, and not able to get rid of it. “Okay,” he said. It was his turn to shove his shoulder into Bucky. Bucky shoved back, and it gave them both an excuse to laugh.

They didn’t win any of the three-legged races the next day. But they never finished last either.

***

It was the second week of school, when Georgie finally struck back.

Steve got hopeful that maybe the bully had forgotten about Steve talking back to him, and Bucky standing up for Steve, on the first day. Bucky shook his head darkly, and kept looking over his shoulder, waiting for Georgie-porgy to jump them. But somehow, even Bucky had let his guard down, on the following Tuesday.

They were going down the front steps for lunch break and recess. It was a nice day, with the sun shining; both boys had rolled up their sleeves. In the middle of the crowd of kids, Steve and Bucky were discussing the rocket ship they were designing, when someone shoved Bucky from behind.

Steve saw Bucky go flying forward, and his hands shot out uselessly, as Bucky tumbled down the last half dozen steps. There were yelps and squeals from the other kids, who jumped back as Bucky hit the ground near their feet.

Steve almost fell down the steps himself in his hurry to get to his friend. Bucky sat up slowly as Steve knelt beside him; Steve could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Bucky?! Are you okay?” he blurted.

Bucky blinked at him, then gingerly lifted one hand to his face, where blood was beginning to trickle from a cut. He worked his jaw side-to-side, shrugged his shoulders, winced.

“Ow,” he finally said, then as Steve continued to peer anxiously at him, he wrinkled his nose. “I’m fine.”

Steve jumped up and offered Bucky his hand, pulling the bigger boy to his feet.

“Who-?” Bucky started, before out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw a fist slam Bucky’s head from the side.

Georgie-porgy leered down at them as Steve crouched beside his fallen friend. “Aw, did baby Bucky fall and get hurt? Ain't that tough luck.”

Steve stared up at him, for a moment terrified. And then Bucky groaned.

Steve had fought those boys in his apartment building. At least he’d tried to. They’d beat him up, but every time he swung as hard as he could, and finally they’d given up and left him alone. When his mama found out, she’d been upset, and even a little mad at him, he thought. After he told her what the kids had said about him, she’d gotten quiet. And for a minute or two Steve had been kinda scared, because she _definitely _looked mad.

Then she’d taken some deep breaths, and looked at Steve, and then he knew she wasn’t mad at _him_. “If your dad was here,” she started, then took another deep breath. “You can’t fight someone just because they call you names.”

“But dad fought ‘em,” Steve protested, though he felt a little ashamed. They said in church you weren’t supposed to fight.

“That wasn’t because they called him names,” his mother said. She gave him a look that made him sit up straight with a jerk. “Your dad fought because the people around him were being hurt. He fought to protect the others, not himself. You understand me, Steven Rogers?”

Steve stared up at Georgie and knew he’d hurt Bucky, and he wanted to hurt him more. A fierce anger exploded inside Steve’s chest, obliterating any fear, and he launched himself off the ground straight at Georgie.

The startled boy staggered and went down under Steve, and Steve sat plump on top of him, thrashing with his fists as hard as he could. “You leave him alone!” Steve screamed. “You can’t hurt him! I’ll–”

He lost his breath as he was thrown violently to the side. He hit the ground and found he couldn’t catch his breath. He saw the blurry form of the big sixth-grade boy rising over him. And then he blinked. Bucky was standing between them, now he was stepping back, until he stood directly over Steve. Bucky glared up at Georgie.

“You leave my friend alone, you big fat bully!” he yelled, and then slammed his fist into Georgie’s nose.

***

They all got a whipping. Steve and Bucky each got five; somehow Georgie only got away with three. But Steve couldn’t care less. Even as he went home with a stinging palm and his mother scolding him, all he could really hear was Bucky’s answer to the principle’s question of, “Why?”

“He’s my friend.”

And when Steve echoed him, quieter, softer, but still strong, he’d seen Bucky smile.

_“He’s my friend.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope that wasn't too badly written!  
Kudos+comments always appreciated. :)


End file.
